


Where the Daylight Begins

by Siamesa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Not Season/Series 08 Compliant, Outer Space, Post-Canon, Team as Family, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siamesa/pseuds/Siamesa
Summary: The Paladins, the Atlas crew, and the universe at large want to throw Shiro and Keith the wedding of the century.Shiro just wants to actually propose.





	Where the Daylight Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Decided I'd take a break from emotionally torturing Shiro to, um, emotionally torture Shiro. 
> 
> (...But fluffily this time!)
> 
> Title is from Vienna Teng's "Harbor."

It begins with Slav, because of course it does.

Slav has been on the Atlas for eight days, eight days that have dragged on until Shiro can now feel each individual second crawling by.  He began by driving Shiro's entire engineering crew out of the drive core bay, making the modifications he had been requested for, and then tearing them all out.  The Atlas had spent twelve hours dead in space while Shiro tried to convince her that the sooner she let Slav back into the bay, or at least out of the forcefields, the sooner he'd be gone.

Shiro misses those twelve hours.  They'd been almost like rest.

Slav has now commandeered assistants.  Shiro has taken care to get their names and move them up on the priority list for shore leave.  Every few hours, he comes up to the bridge to give a report.  The plus side of this is that the engines are showing remarkable improvement.  The downside is Slav's effect on his bridge crew.

 _You don't remember their names,_ Shiro rehearses in his mind.  _That's fine.  But please stop referring to them by 'interesting things they've done in parallel realities.'_

It's been a nightmare.  "Eaten-by-Yuppers!  Are you taking notes?"  "Coffee-Shop!  Tell Horrifically-Mangled to stop tapping her foot, it's causing dangerous vibrations!"  And Shiro isn't sure _what_ he'd called his communications officer, but the man had shot Shiro a horrified look and has now called in sick three shifts in a row.

It's been a nightmare, and Shiro is going to do something about it.

-

He walks into the ready room to find Slav already present, coiled around an empty display plinth.

Shiro glances at the table.

"It collapses," Slav informs him without prompting, "in a full two percent of alternate realities.  I break three of my legs."

"...Yes," says Shiro.  "Slav, a number of my officers have complained -"

"I know!  So frustrating to deal with, and you with your marriage coming up..."  Slav tilts his head, and a full third of his upper body, to the side.

"As such, you - what?"

Slav babbles something about heart attack statistics while Shiro fights to get his breath under control.

It's not that much of a surprise that Slav knows, he reminds himself.  He's had the ring in his desk for weeks now, but Keith isn't expected back for another month, and Shiro doesn't want to propose over vidchat. 

He meant to ask before Keith left.  But things had gotten in the way, not least of them his own head, and - and he didn't.  Shiro clenches his jaw.  _And now Slav knows._

Slav knows, and Keith doesn't.

"I must say I'm very pleased for you!  Avoid crushed gravel, yellow flowers, and any fruits with visible seeds.  In -"

"Thank you," says Shiro, quickly.  "Now, returning to the matter of my bridge crew, _please..._ "

-

He thinks that's it.  He just needs to put up with Slav until the engines modifications are done, keep the ring in his pocket, and propose to Keith the second he next gets him alone.  That's twenty-seven days from now if everything goes according to plan, and, in a bid to keep his mind focused, he changes the settings on his calendar to mark each one off with a satisfying virtual 'X' as they pass.  The date of Keith's return is already bright green, as it always is.

Two Xs later, Shiro gets a call.

It's not Keith - but, he reminds himself, he wasn't expecting it to be Keith, who already takes too many risks to chat with him in the middle of black ops missions.  Shiro had told him exactly that the last time he'd called, and the gunshots in the background had made him, he remembers guiltily, a little sharper than usual about it.

"Shiro!"  Lance calls out cheerfully.  "Why the long face?"

Shiro tries to school his expression back into place.  From the plants and sky in the background, Lance is probably on Earth, somewhere green; maybe visiting his family in Cuba. 

"It's nothing,"  Shiro says.  "How are you and Allura?"

Lance waves a hand.  "Fine, fine."  He narrows his eyes, and speaks the words that will condemn Shiro to misery.  "Pre-wedding jitters?"

"What?"  Shiro jolts.  "Who told you that? _Slav?"_   Why would Lance be talking to Slav?  Why would _anyone_ be talking to Slav?

"No, Veronica."  Shiro's heart thuds down into his stomach.  Lance lifts a finger.  "Also, you told _Slav_ before you told me? Your fellow paladin? Keith's best man? The one who's actually _planned_ a wedding?" 

"I didn't tell anyone!"  HIs Altean fist slams down, hard, against the thankfully reinforced desk.  "I haven't even _proposed."_   The last word comes out a ragged whisper.

Lance is silent for a long moment.  "...Are you going to?"

"Yes."  Shiro takes in a deep breath.  This isn't Lance's fault.  "But I didn't want anyone to know."  He looks Lance in the eyes, and summons up his Black Paladin voice.  "I still don't want anyone to know.  Not before Keith does."

Lance nods repeatedly, but there's what Shiro recognizes as a very dangerous smile playing at the corners of his lips.  "You got it."  He inhales.  "Venue in mind?  What do you want to wear - ugh, it's going to be your dress uniform, isn't it?  Still.  I can probably work with that -"

"Lance -"

"-and Galra have wedding traditions, don't they?  Would Keith -"

"Lance!"  Shiro fights for calm.  "...I don't even know if he's going to say yes."

Lance is still for a moment, the only movement something twitching in his jaw.  Apparently he finally grasps the gravity of the situation.   "You... don't know... if _Keith_ is going to say yes."  A brief pause.  Another jaw twitch.  "To _you."_

Shiro nods, struggling to unclench his flesh hand from the armrest of his chair.  "Exactly."  Keith loves him.  Shiro knows this.  But Keith also deserves better.  _I've loved you since I was sixteen years old._ He remembers Keith's voice around the words, the fire in his eyes.  Shiro can't even remember which classmate he thought he was in love with at sixteen.  He can't escape the creeping fear that he's stunted Keith, somehow, that he's holding him back, any more than he can escape the scar on Keith's cheek, the one that he swears sometimes still burns beneath his hands.  "I don't..."

Lance looks him dead in the eyes.  "Shiro.  Admiral Shirogane.  Take this from the only Earthling among us to successfully pop the question -"

"I thought Allura proposed -"

"To _successfully pop the question_."  Lances waves an arm, brushing Shiro's protest aside, and then wiggles his fingers until his wedding ring flashes sufficiently in the sunlight.  "He'll say yes."

Shiro heaves a deep breath.  Lance's confidence is... comforting.

But now he _really_ needs to have a talk with Veronica.

-

Veronica's off-shift, and her room has a clear red do-not-disturb light.  Shiro doesn't feel up to waking her up for a dressing down - and he definitely doesn't feel up to interrupting one of her calls to Axca again - so he heads for the gym instead.  The nervous energy dissipates as his muscles begin to burn.  By the time he towels off and heads back to his quarters, Shiro feels like he's gotten some of his equilibrium back.

This is probably why the message from Allura doesn't raise any immediate red flags.

"Allura?"

"Shiro!"  There's a too-high edge to her voice, and a slightly-manic sparkle in her eye.  The only comparison he can think of is the unfortunate incident on Pidge's last birthday, when they'd run out of Hunk's cake, moved on to leftovers, and discovered that _haskarl_ had an even worse effect on Alteans than blueberries - or, for that matter, tequila.

Shiro closes his eyes.  "...Lance told you."

"He did."  She sounds slightly more like herself, enough that he cracks an eye back open.  " _Before_ he called you, however."

Shiro nods.  That _probably_ means most of Lance's family knows, assuming that's where Lance and Allura are, and any potential houseguests, and maybe most of the neighbors, because an enthusiastic Lance cannot, under any circumstances, be described as quiet.  But, Shiro reminds himself, battening down his panic, he doesn't know any of those people personally, and neither does Keith.

As long as Lance's parents don't live next to any tabloid reporters, he can pretend this never happened.

"I'm so happy for both of you!"

Shiro nods again, trying not to look seasick.  From Allura's sudden concerned expression, he doubts he's succeeded.

"Shiro."  She narrows her eyes.  "Are you alright?"

"Jitters?"  he offers, and then, as her eyes narrow further, he sighs.  "...I just don't want the entire universe to know about this."

The spark in Allura's gaze shifts, snapping from _fermented Icelandic shark_ to _fleet engagement._ "They don't have to."  She leans forward.  "This isn't about the universe, Shiro.  You don't owe them anything else - you don't owe _anyone_ anything else.  Don't make this into a state occasion because of Voltron, or Daibazaal, or because you think that's what the Black Paladins ought to do.  This is about you, and Keith."

That wasn't _quite_ what he meant, but a knot in Shiro's stomach loosens all the same.  "Thanks, Allura."

 SHe smiles.   "You don't even have to invite us, if you don't want to.  Though if that's the case, I should probably break it to Lance sooner rather than later."

"No, no, you're definitely invited."  All the Paladins.  Coran, Krolia.  At least some of his officers - well, those who will still be on speaking terms with him once Slav is through with the ship. 

But he doesn't want to plan ahead too far.  Not until Keith says yes.

"It ought to be exciting," says Allura.  "An _Earth_ wedding."  There's something wistful in her tone, and suddenly Shiro wonders if she and Lance hadn't wanted to be a state occasion, either.

"Fewer Yelmor choruses," he offers.

She grins.  "Indeed."

-

The next two days pass without serious incident.  No more unexpected congratulatory message, no more traumatized bridge officers (though half the engineering crew seems to be camping out outside Dr. Olwen's office), only _one_ meeting with Slav, who is "making progress" and does not wish to be disturbed.

Shiro lets the tirade of statistics and deaths wash past him, and returns to the bridge.

And then, on the third day, end of shift hits, and with it, just as he's rising from his chair, a sort of _glorp._ He sees double for a moment, and the air tastes of overripe tomatoes.

Someone behind him vomits.

The air fuzzes and hisses, static surrounding him, and he doubles over - but then, with another _glorp_ (it sounds like the color orange, and he resigns himself to a migraine), the bridge wavers back into view.

The air is still.  Around him, his crew pick each other up off the floor.  In his head, the Atlas is shrieking in rage.  Shiro puts his flesh hand to his forehead, crunching the back of his chair with the Altean one in an effort to keep his balance.

It takes him another hour to calm Atlas, and an hour after that to deal with Slav.  _Yes,_ the engines are faster.  _No,_ I don't think we'll get used to it.  _Another way -_ yes, fine, try that, thank you, and with that he sentences himself to an extra three weeks of Slav.

Shiro stumbles back to his cabin, and collapses, asleep before he hits the mattress.

_Beep._

He blinks awake.  The ship's lights have dimmed - nightcycle.  He's gotten a few hours of sleep, at least.  Shiro stares at the beeping, blinking light atop his computer for a few more seconds before yawning and answering.

"Oh, sorry," says Hunk.  "I didn't realize you were asleep."

Shiro tries to stifle a yawn.  "Don't worry about it.  Just a nap."  As his mind clears, dread coils in his belly.  "...What's up?"

Hunk laughs.  "Um, the wedding?  I mean, I know you didn't call me sooner, and maybe Keith's got some sort of galra thing planned - but if they're catering the wedding, I call the reception."  He smiles, wide and bright, but fading slightly as he clearly takes in the look on Shiro's face.

"Who told you I was getting married?"  A rhetorical question.  Of course it was Lance.

"Pidge, of course!  She said Matt said - _Oh._ "  Hunk trails off with a blush.  "Oh, man, I'm so sorry.  Forget I said anything - but if you do ever plan on getting married - and no pressure, I want what's best for both of you - I call reception.  Just so we're clear."

_Matt._

Matt isn't even on board the Atlas!  How did _Matt,_ of all people -

Hunk stares at him, wide-eyed.  "...Or not?"

"I want to get married," Shiro says, fighting for calm.  This isn't _Hunk's_ fault.  Hunk is trying to do something nice for his friends, the way he has even before Shiro w _as_ really his friend, and Shiro is _not_ going to take out his frustrations at Matt on an innocent, cake-bearing bystander.  "I want to get married, but I haven't proposed yet."  He takes in a long breath.  "I'm sorry I snapped at you.  I just didn't want anyone to know.  Not before Keith."

Hunk nods rapidly.  "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," says Shiro, trying to put on his Black Paladin voice.  It's different from his Captain's voice, which is different still from Admiral Shirogane's.  He had been the leader of the Paladins - but the Paladins weren't military.  They're his friends.  "And you can definitely cater the reception.  If it happens."

"Keith'll say yes," says Hunk, seeing through him in an instant.  "Seriously, though, I want to make it up to you.  You get the main dish - anything.  Anything at all.  You want consommé devilish?  You got it.  Argulian pink liver oil?  Fugu?  I'm -"

"Food goo," says Shiro.

"What?"

Shiro feels his cheeks heat.  "Back on the Castle.  It was - there's a lot of good memories in it."

Hunk looks pensive.  "Original flavor, or improved?  Or improved Mark II?  Though I guess you weren't really..."

Shiro closes his eyes, briefly.  He has the clone's memories, or most of them, misty and overlayered.  Laughter and battles and Keith, as he'd turned away.

"Original," he says, hoping Hunk didn't pick up on his pause.

"...Alright," says Hunk.  "Food Goo the Original Series, coming up.  I wonder, if I pair it with..."

-

He considers calling Matt.  He considers calling Pidge.  He considers making use of the terrible new engines, parking the Atlas right in the middle of Keith's Blade mission, and lunging at him with a ring.

Instead, another week passes.  A few of his engineers have voluntarily rejoined Slav in the drive core bay, followed by a barrage of warnings from his LS chief that coffee supplies are running dangerously low.  Shiro marks off each day with another red X.

After marking off the eighth, he lingers at his desk.

Keith's ring - what he hopes will be Keith's ring - is in a small, black-leather box, smooth against his fingers.  He pops the box open, and it glimmers in the light, tungsten with a glittering silver inlay.  Shiro runs a finger along it, closing his eyes.

He has one of Keith's jackets in his wardrobe - well, usually.  These days it's under his pillow, which has made for a few moments of awkwardness with visitors.

He has - he has _too much_ practice being away from Keith, that's the problem.  All those months in the Black Lion, straining to touch him - and then staring, at the creature wearing his face, the one who had hugged Keith goodbye.  He'd wandered the astral plane, feeling himself fading -

His Altean hand slams down on the desk, and Shiro makes a frantic grab for the ring box as it starts to slide away.

This isn't helping.

He needs sleep.  He needs to curl up with Keith's jacket, get the full eight hours he hadn't gotten in weeks, and wake up tomorrow ready to test the engines.

There has to be a coffee-bearing planet _somewhere_ nearby.

-

Shiro sips on a lukewarm, greenish beverage that the inhabitants of Moonbase Ibixii had suggested _might_ be like coffee, in the sense that it was a stimulant, or at least a liquid. 

The Moonbase leadership had been thrilled to see the Atlas, and only slightly disappointed to learn that none of the Lions were aboard.  They'd given an entire presentation - complete with music - on local attractions, which mostly consisted of two bars, a single park, and a science station.  The science station did not allow visitors.

Still, it was clearly a heartful welcome, and with friendly locals, reasonably-priced alcohol, and the only breathable atmosphere for parsecs, shore leave on the Moonbase was proving a hit with his crew.

He's spent the morning in the park, signing the occasional autograph and enjoying a few blessed, Slav-free hours.  

"Ah! Captain Shirogane!"  One of the councilmembers - Second-Ta Mireel, with the blue spots - bustles over to him.  "How are you enjoying Ibixii?"

Shiro sets down his drink.  "It's lovely, ma'am.  And thank you again for your hospitality."  His crew doesn't _quite_ outnumber the base's permanent residents, but they're cutting it close.

"Ah, yes."  She bares her fangs in what Shiro hopes is a smile.  "Ya Vaneel Memorial Park is 'lovely,' isn't it?  The Vra trees will be in bloom soon - almost as bright as back home."  She gestures towards a small clump of plants with grayish, fleshy leaves.  "The _perfect_ spot for a wedding!"

-

The Atlas has two more days of shore leave.  Shiro barricades himself in his room.

-

Pidge's call comes as something of a relief.

He'd known it was coming.  He'd been starting to worry something had happened to her when it hadn't.

But from her background - a distinctively Olkari mixture of bark and tech - he suspects that something was merely a new project.

"It's good to see you, Pidge.  How are you doing?"  He forces down a few other questions - who told Matt?  Who else did Matt tell? - because something in her face suggests she knows they're coming.

Pidge's answering grin is awkward.  "I'm sorry about telling Hunk, Shiro.  I didn't know you didn't want people to know - but then Allura called me, because he'd called Lance, and -" She twists her hands together.  "It was rough, apparently."

Shiro winces.  "I'm sorry about that."

Pidge waves him off.  "I'm making it up to you, though!"  She holds up a small, glowing device, and now her grin is sharp-toothed and familiar.  "Allura said you didn't want a big-deal wedding.  Can't say I blame you."  She shudders slightly.  Pidge and ceremonial Altean headwear had _not_ gotten along.  "So!  The Olkari and I have been working on these modular, portable buildings - camping, recon missions, stack a few of them together and you've got a fort.  They're undetectable to most tracking _and_ can camouflage themselves visually.  You want a private venue, I've got you a private venue."

"...That sounds great, Pidge."  There's an awkward pause as he tries to word his next sentence.  "... I was thinking about having it out in the desert, actually.  On Earth."  If that's what Keith wants, of course.   He's flexible.  But the only place that's ever been more _theirs_ was the Castleship.

He tenses, waiting for her to reply.

Pidge shrugs.  "Cool.  That wasn't my 'making-it-up' present, anyway."

Shiro tilts his head.  "What is it, then?"

"Keeping Matt from throwing you a bachelor party." 

"...You're the best of us, Pidge."

That sharp-edged smile returns.  "I know."

-

Atlas slides delicately back into realspace, engines humming gently.  The air tastes like slightly-stale starship air, not an overripe tomato in sight.

The bridge crew breaks into ragged cheers.

They come into lunar orbit, Earth rising up into view.  There are still dust clouds in the upper atmosphere, still a faint, sparkling ring of debris.  But she's still Earth.  She's still there.

Shiro even manages to see Slav off somewhat gracefully.

The ring is heavy in his pocket, and he keeps slipping a hand in to fiddle with the box.  His last message from Keith had been three lines of text four days ago; he gathers the Blade mission's over, and that it went well, or at least wasn't a total disaster.

But he doesn't know where Keith is.  When he'll be back on Earth.  _If_ he'll be back on Earth, any time soon.

Shiro takes a deep breath.  He's waited this long.  He can message Keith for coordinates once he's done talking to the Admiralty Board.

Who, at this point, probably _also_ know about the wedding.

He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't see Lance until he nearly collides with him.

"Shiro!"

Shiro nods at him, bending down to pick up the papers Lance dropped when he'd tried to dodge.  Most of them seem to be sketches of long-limbed people in suits.

"...Way too many ruffles," says Shiro, handing the last of them back. 

Lance grins at him.  "Oh, c'mon.  He'll look great in ruffles."

Shiro manages to smile in response.  "It's your funeral."

He gets significantly more of a laugh than the joke called for, and then it cuts off abruptly, canned laughter in an old sitcom.  Lance is, however, still smiling.  "You're needed over in the East Hangar."

Shiro's most recent biography - the one translated into fifty alien languages, the one that no one will _ever_ let him live down - had called him, in addition to "strikingly handsome," "the greatest tactician of the century."

He has an _inkling_ of what is probably waiting in the East Hangar.

But seeing Keith, still in his Blade uniform, pulling supplies out of the back of a small, sharp-winged fighter - his heart skips a beat.

Lance lets go of his arm and vanishes, footsteps rapidly retreating.  Shiro, awkwardly, steps forward.

Keith smiles at him.  "Hey, babe."

And suddenly everything seems easier.  The Admirals, the gossip, galactic reconstruction itself.  Slav.  Everything seems _worth_ it.

Shiro smiles.  Kneels down.

And pulls out the ring.


End file.
